


Of sheets and blood

by GhostyGirl01



Category: Pocket Mortys, Rick and Morty
Genre: Angst and Feels, Gen, Kind Rick, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pale Rick, Pale Rick is my kind boy, Past Abuse, President Morty (mentioned), Rick Being an Asshole, Smol Mort, Spooky Morty, Tanned Rick, Trauma, idk anymore
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-20
Updated: 2018-07-20
Packaged: 2019-06-13 06:47:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15358626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GhostyGirl01/pseuds/GhostyGirl01
Summary: “We’ve got a new guest,”A prisoner.“To ta- to take care of,”Interrogate.“So why don’t you help him feel at home?”Drag him into his cell which he’ll never leave alive.





	Of sheets and blood

_Drip, drip, drip..._

The sound of a leaky pipe broke the silent air, adding a hint of staleness to the already musky corridor. Water was usually a calming sound, after all it was the main necessity to life itself, however in this case Rick would have preferred the silence. The quietness was something he’d long since gotten used to as he’d been positioned down in these hidden tunnels for some years now, rarely going up to the surface, and never leaving the citadel itself.

That wasn’t to say he was a prisoner though. No, he would never allow himself to be caged, tortured and then left to rot in the dark and the silence; Rick had seen it happen all too many times since taking up the job and he was determined not to go out that way.

Suddenly, he was pulled from his thoughts by the sounds of footsteps. Hard souled shoes marched along the even harder stone floor, no doubt belonging to another Rick. It wasn’t uncommon for them to come down here, often dropping off someone new or occasionally taking out someone old. These cells were used to hold prisoners who were either too dangerous to be kept along the others, or who were being interrogated for doing something that had personally angered the newest president.

Rick exhaled and stretched his aching muscles, waiting to see one of the many Rick’s that passed by his position. Even now, he still found it incredible how a Morty was running this whole place. Had he been on the surface, he might have said things were better, but he had a different view point on things from so low in the ground, and he knew that not everything was as perfect as the Ricks were lead to believe...

“Ah L-13, it’s good to see you’re still here,” a voice said, drawing Rick’s attention over to the left where an alternate version of himself was standing, that shit eating grin plastered all over his stupid face. U-147 was his commander, despite having worked here only half the time Rick L-13 had, and he just loved to gloat over the fact he could come and go as he pleased.

“Boy that-that one just gets fUUGHunnier everytime, huh?” L-13 replied, rolling his eyes moodily whilst attempting not to notice the tan the other Rick had. Rick’s were pale by nature, but being stuck so far underground rendered him whiter than cocaine itself, and it didn’t help how dim the lights were. He looked like a trapped soul, while his commander looked like he’d just been on a Carribbean cruise.  
Such bullshit.

Tanned Rick just shrugged, pretending he had no idea what the other was talking about.

“We’ve got a new guest,”  
_A prisoner._  
“To ta- to take care of,”  
_Interrogate._  
“So why don’t you help him feel at home?”  
_Drag him into his cell which he’ll never leave alive._

Pale Rick exhaled, took out a red key card from his uniform pocket, then started to walk down the hall with his commander in toe. It was the same everytime, but he only complained as much as he could get away with. Complaints got you into these cells after all, and he much preferred to stay on the outside with the keys in his pocket.

“How are you then, 13?” Tanned Rick cooed, and Rick could practically hear that sharkish grin plastered all over his smug face.

Rick just shrugged “At-at minding my own business? Better than most people around here.”

“Ha, funny as ever. Do you tell all your- all your little friends that one?”

Pale Rick didn’t answer, knowing full well it was another jab at his shitty underground job. He was the only guard down here becausa no one had ever escaped and extra security wasn’t necessary. In fact he was more like a librarian of prisoners, knowing their precise locations and cell numbers, but that just made him feel even shittier. A computer could have done his job, or even a book, but the president didn’t have time to worry about every single Rick and their awful careers.

As they reached the free cell, which would ultimately become some poor fuck’s home, Rick realized something interesting; He’d only heard one pair of hard shoes coming in, Tanned Rick's. So who were they interrogating?

Quietly, he slipped his key card into the slot on the wall and pulled open the heavy steel door, forcing himself to ignore the painful scratches that were engraved into the painted plaster interior. Inside was a sponge mattress covered in a blue waterproof jacket, two buckets, one of which was filled with water, and a plexiglass mirror which was cemented into the wall itself. That was scratched up the most.

The single bulb above buzzed softly, something which seemed innocent enough but would eventually drive a person mad with the noise and have them begging to be left in the darkness. It was a truly horrid cycle Pale Rick was forced to hear.

He stepped back, turning around to face his bronzed commander before speaking.  
“It’s all yours.”

Commander U-147 grinned once more, stepping to the left to reveal the prisoner who’d be living in that small box of a room.

Pale Rick had never been one for morals, at least no more than any other Rick. But that was no prisoner, no Rick who murdered babies for fun or even a Rick who’d attempted to over throw the new president.  
That was a goddamn Morty.

“Well? Go on then,” Tanned Rick said, seemingly eager to get the kid in there right away.

The Morty swallowed softly, taking a few hesitant steps forward as if to inspect the room. Pale Rick tried not to stare, but he couldn’t help but notice that the kid wasn’t wearing even shoes, his bare feet almost blue with cold from the concrete ground below. The rest of him wasn’t much better either; he was wearing an almost translucent bedsheet, two eye holes cut out of the front so he could see. Underneath that was a ratty yellow shirt, although it was more hole than shirt at this point, and a pair of dirtied white shorts. His arms hung out limply in front of him, wrists bound by the high-tech cuffs the citadel had created so they couldn’t be picked by certain Ricks. Other than his clothes? The Morty looked fairly normal... Besides being scared shitless and covered by a sheet, something Rick figured was the his own choosing.

Pale Rick sighed, unable to watch the poor kid cower and glance around like a terrified dog, so he reached out and pushed him into the room, quickly pulling the door closed after. The electronic lock automatically sliding into place to keep the Morty inside sealed away.

Tanned Rick lost his grin, seemingly annoyed his sick kicks had been cut short.

“You reaaally know how to kill a mood, huh 13?”

Pale Rick just shrugged, choosing to focus on putting the key card back in it’s correct place.  
“I ju-just didn’t see any point in dragging it out. There’s no proUGGHblem with that, is there?”

Silence permeated the air once again, but it was full of static from the two Ricks' splitting gaze at each other. Eventually Tanned Rick just rolled his eyes and forced a clipboard into the others hands before speaking.  
“this is all we know about him. Verify, sign, wh-whatever. Just get it done.”

His voice had an edge to it, a bitter tinge that anyone could sense, but Pale Rick ignored it and simply nodded, even as the commander turned and left.

“Aye aye captain...” he muttered sarcastically, waiting until he could no longer hear the sound of shoes clacking along the stone floor. These corridors stretched out for miles and it was easy to get lost, so it took a while for Tanned Rick to actually go far enough away for Pale Rick to feel comfortable again. But when he had, and the deafening silence returned, Rick felt ready to read the clipboard and find out a little more about the Morty under the bedsheets.

Getting a Morty down here was rare. So rare in fact that Pale Rick wasn’t even sure it’d ever happened! This place was for extremely dangerous Rick’s, but a lone Morty? Especially one who seemed so terrified... It just didn’t add up. And Rick was very good at math.

With an exhale and a crack of his knuckles, he began to read through the information on the clipboard. But it didn’t take long for him to stumble across the real reason this kid was so dangerous.

“Holy shit...”

**Author's Note:**

> Your comments give me life ;p


End file.
